As if Death actually catching up with Bergman and Antonioni on the same day wasn’t enough, I bet there’s a Larry Davidesque moment happening in the afterlife right now, judging by Ing’s characteristically blunt appraisal of Mike. Whether either of these boys are actually getting into heaven at all is another matter altogether.
“He’s done two masterpieces, you don’t have to bother with the rest. One is Blow-Up, which I’ve seen many times, and the other is La Notte, also a wonderful film, although that’s mostly because of the young Jeanne Moreau. In my collection I have a copy of Il Grido, and damn what a boring movie it is. So devilishly sad, I mean. You know, Antonioni never really learned the trade. He concentrated on single images, never realising that film is a rhythmic flow of images, a movement. Sure, there are brilliant moments in his films. But I don’t feel anything for L’Avventura, for example. Only indifference. I never understood why Antonioni was so incredibly applauded. And I thought his muse Monica Vitti was a terrible actress.”
“Fellini, Kurosawa and Bunuel move in the same field as Tarkovsky. Antonioni was on his way, but expired, suffocated by his own tediousness.”
Ouch. I bet Woody Allen wishes he was there.